Dragonflies
by T. F. Crosby
Summary: When his world is turned upside down by an evil act, Hanson discovers there is more to life than what the world has to offer and sets out on a Great Adventure with his best friend. An adventure he would never have considered to be.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: My first attempt at a 21 Jump Street story. I'm not entirely sure how I got into it. Or back into it as I did see the episodes when they originally aired. In any case, a few months ago I decided to check out the stories on FanFiction and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still fairly active. Reading and watching the show again spurred me to write my own stories.

My first story leans on the alternate universe side, which is obvious from the beginning. All main charaters from the show, including Jenko, will at some point be a part of the story and many storylines from the series will be intertwined with the story in some way. One episode in particular inspired the idea; one of the few episodes I actually remember from it's original airing.

The story, the majority of it, is told from Hanson's point of view and revolves around Hanson and Penhall's friendship. The main plot of the story is upfront. I'm not making you wait to find out or try to figure it out. No guesswork. It begins in the present time, what would be present for Hanson, goes into past events, and eventually back to the present.

If you have any questions feel free to ask. I'll try and answer them as best as I can. I hope you enjoy the story.

_**21 JUMP STREET**_

**Dragonflies**

Chapter One

I hate crying. I told my friends that when I die, I don't want them to cry over me. But there are times, no matter how strong you or anyone else thinks you are, or how hard you try and stop them, that the tears still come. I used to think that keeping my emotions in check, especially sadness, was my greatest strength. I now realize that it's my strongest weakness. Dennis told me there's nothing wrong with that. I've held on to what he said, even though it sounded strange to me then.

Four and a half years ago I was diagnosed with HIV. I've cried quite a bit over that time. To be truthful, my tears began to fall before I found out I was HIV positive. Most of the tears I've shed have had nothing to do with it.

My good friend and former fellow Jump Streeter, Judy Hoffs, told me I should write down all that's happened to me since that case five years ago when my world was turned upside down. What happened to me on that case I kept to myself, told no one. I held on to a secret that was tearing me up inside for three months. A terrifying journey that began the day my mother died.

The events of the morning my partner Doug Penhall walked in to Jump Street Chapel, late, would send me on a journey I never saw coming. It was three days before Jenks-that would be Captain Richard Jenko, founder of Jump Street-got the call for the op I mentioned. I was sitting at my desk, hooking Doug's paperclips together.

"Anybody know what's taking Penhall so long?" I heard Ioki, Harry Truman Ioki (another friend and fellow Jump Streeter), say. "Prob'ly stuck in traffic," Jude (Judy Hoffs, the one that told me I should right this stuff down) replied as I continued to hook Doug's paperclips together. "There's been a lot of accidents this morning. Mostly minor."

"Rough morning commute," Harry said back. "Hope Penhall wasn't in any of them."

"Nah…. He's just being slow. Perfectly normal." I had to say something to lead them to believe the paperclips were not more important than the conversation.

"Are those your paperclips, Hanson?" Judy asked.

I looked up at her. "Nope."

"Are they Penhall's?"

"Yup."

She shook her head as Harry said, "He's gonna kill you."

I grinned. "Before or after he gets 'em all unhooked?"

Harry walked over to my desk and picked up the plush black cat I had sitting on my desk next to my calendar. "Isn't this one the kittens from _The Aristocats?"_

I snatched it back. "Don't judge me." I went back to the paperclips. "And his name is Berlioz."

"Where did you get that?"

"Garage sale."

"Garage sale?"

"Yes," I said flatly, wanting to end the conversation. (Doug gave it to me as a gag.) Thankfully Jenks put an end to it.

"Got some bad news, kids." He stopped in front of my desk. Jenks had that look on his face that said 'something horrible has happened to somebody we know.' My mind immediately flashed to Doug. "There's been a major accident on Dakota and Fourth."

Doug's more than just my partner. He's my best friend. And although at that point we had only known each other for about seven months, he had already become a brother to me. If anything ever happened to him, I don't know if I could go on.

I stood up quickly. My eyes had to be as big as saucers to him. "Is Doug-"

"Calm down, Tom. Penhall's fine." I let out a huge sigh of relief as Jenks continued. "He got caught in a traffic jam caused by the accident. Now he's on his way here. He should be-"

Before he could finish, Doug walked in.

I couldn't stop myself from running over to him. "Doug. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The look on his face said otherwise. _He _may have been okay, but something _was _wrong. "Then what's…?

"We really need to talk. Now."

His voice and expression were solemn. _Solemn, _a word and all it's synonyms I would soon become accustomed to. "Doug, what's wrong?"

"Use my office," Jenks said.

"Thanks Jenks." To me, gesturing. "Come on."

If I wasn't already confused I would've been at that moment. I couldn't have imagined in that proverbial 'million years' that I would be sitting in Jenko's office across from my best friend and brother, hearing what he was about to tell me.

"Jenks told you why I'm late, right?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't too far behind the wreck, so I pulled my bike around to check it out, see if I could help with anything. One of the car's involved looked like yer mom's."

"My mom's…." I felt my body tense. My dad was a cop. He had been killed in the line of duty six years earlier when I was sixteen. He was the reason I became a cop.

"So I walked up to it." He sighed. It was the kind of sigh a person gives you when they're about to tell you something they're dreading.

I heard someone say 'no'. It was me…but I didn't sound like myself.

First the words came. "It was her."

I knew the answer before I asked the question. "Is she- Is my mom okay?"

Then the look. The look that needed no words. "I'm so sorry, Tommy."

I had no idea I had been standing until I felt my knees hit the floor and heard Doug call my name. The world around me had gone surreal.

"Tommy."

I looked at Doug-who was now kneeling down next to me-trying to speak. "Doug, I…" was all I could get out and then I collapsed into his arms.

I hate to cry. The morning my mother died, I didn't cry.

Three days later, Jenko presented to us the case that would turn my world inside out. He intended to put Harry in my place, but I insisted on going. I couldn't stand just sitting at my desk and I definitely didn't want to be sitting at home by myself. I needed to be with Doug.

"You sure about this, Hanson?"

"You can't break up the McQuaid Brothers, Jenks. Heh."

I probably didn't sound all that convincing, but I meant what I said. And Jenko knew it. Doug and I hadn't been playing the McQuaid brothers for all that long; but the truth was, I enjoyed being a McQuaid brother and I didn't want that broken up for any reason. We acted like brothers when we weren't on a case. Harry noted not too long ago that "if I didn't know any better, I'd swear they really were brothers."

"Alright. You two know what ya gotta do. Get outta here."

"Thank you, Jenks."

"Not to worry, Jenks," Doug said. "We'll get this perp." He turned to face me. "Why?"

We grinned at each other. "Because…we're the McQuaid brothers!" Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jenko shaking his head at us as we did our handshake (if you can call it that). "Heh!"

"Get outta here."

"Yes, Sir."

"And quit callin' me 'sir'."

I often wondered if Jenko ever thought Doug and I had lost our minds. Sometimes _I _think we've lost our minds. Dennis had said so. Dennis Booker. The guy I couldn't stand when we first met. Hated him, really. But he has grown on me. When Judy gave me the notebook and told me I should write everything down, he told me not to be too serious, to make sure to add humor. The same Dennis that told me, point blankly, that it was okay to be sad, to cry.

"Every one of these parking lots looks the same," I grumbled, slumping down in the backseat of the limousine (yep, limousine) unwilling to get out of the vehicle. "I feel like I _really am _back in high school."

Doug looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You went to boarding school?"

"No…."

The door on Doug's side opened. He grabbed my arm, "Come on, Whiney McQuaid," and pulled me out of the limo.

Walking up the steps to the outer courtyard, an odd thought popped into my head. "I'm surprised they haven't put 'cop-killer' in either of our jackets yet."

When someone says the exact same thing at the exact same time as I do, this small explosion goes off in my head. This is exactly what happened with my comment. Doug and me do this all the time. Yet, the explosion still occurs. We stared at each other…and then proceded to shove each other. Watch out, kiddies, Here come, the McQuaid Brothers!

It's amazing how fast word travels when you're supposed to be the bad boys. Students stared at us awkwardly, unsure of what to make of us. Clothes may make the man, but they don't change his personality. We may have been donning pressed slacks and tweed jackets, but we were still the McQuaid brothers. And for many people, that meant trouble. This was going to be interesting.

Goddard Hall. An all-boys, private boarding school. Not a rich kids school, per se, but it definitely had the air of one. The school's motto: animis opibusque parati. Translated from the Latin: prepared in mind and resources. _Also the state motto of South Carolina. _The school was clean. So were the students in their nice, neat uniforms. It would appear that absolutely nothing of Jump Street interest would be taking place there. That being said, one might wonder "why on earth are the McQuaid brothers being sent to-of all things-a college preparatory school?"

Simple: Daddy wanted something better for his two little boys. Not that Daddy is such a great man…at least not this time.

There were rumors that someone at the school was in the business of buying and selling firearms. Illegally, of course. It was the perfect place for the two abused McQuaid boys to seek revenge on Daddy without rousing any suspicion. Officers Doug Penhall and Tom Hanson however, were being sent in to sniff out the dealer, possibly dealers.

We didn't have much to go on other than the rumors. Whether the dealer, or dealers, would be found among the student body or the faculty was still in question. If there were multiple dealers, it could be both.

The first two weeks didn't turn up much. Neither one of us noticed anything out of the ordinary, anything related to the case. What I did notice was that three faculty members, a teacher, the nurse (the school physician's aide), and a phys ed coach, appeared to be following us around. "Us" for the first two weeks. After that, I noticed them watching me, rather intently, when Doug wasn't around. We had no classes together. At Goddard, teachers switched classes, not the students; physical education, science and electives, being the exceptions. Even with that open, me and Doug still couldn't manage a class together. Fortunately, we were able to room together.

The teacher that was watching me was my English/Literature teacher, Mr. Coleman. I didn't notice anything strange at first. Even those first few weeks where it felt like him and those other two men were watching and following me, they really weren't doing anything wrong. It was more 'little Tommy's just being paranoid.' When the fourth week rolled around, my paranoia was no longer unfounded. Mr. Coleman began saying things to me and looking at me in ways that made me uncomfortable. Those were moments that made me forget that I was a cop and not an actual student. I didn't say anything to Doug about it. It didn't seem all that important at the time. I was told by Dylan, one of the students in my class, to just ignore Coleman.

"He's like that with other students in his classes," Dylan told me.

Evidently, I wasn't the only one being harassed by this guy. "What about you?" I asked.

He looked at me. "Before you got here."

"Nice." I rolled my eyes. "Apparently, I saved you from any more grief."

Dylan also mentioned that Coleman seemed to only target juniors and sophomores. He had no freshman in any of his classes and seniors were left alone. _Great for Doug. _

As we entered into our fifth week at Goddard, I mentioned to Doug about the three men watching us, deliberately using 'us' and leaving out the part about Coleman and his creepy demeanor.

"It's prob'ly nothin'," he said. "Just let it go."

So I did. This is the moment when you look back and say to yourself "If I only…."

But how different would the outcome really have been if I had said anything to Doug. All it would have been was my word against Coleman's if I said anything to another teacher or the Dean. Besides, I was undercover. I had something more important to deal with. Aside from lewd comments and disturbing looks from Coleman and being followed around by the other two, they still were not doing anything more than being irritating. An irritation isn't a warrant for an arrest, though I could probably get Coleman on harassment. That is, if I could get a few of the other students to speak up. Unlikely. So dropping it, I focused back on our investigation.

Coleman had been relatively easy to ignore, as uncomfortable as I was around him. At least, I had other students around me. However, my trips to the nurse's office, which were numerous for some reason, were usually alone. I'm certain I saw the nurse's assistant, _Nick, _more than anyone. (I'm also certain that everyone else saw the actual nurse.) He often went out of his way to see how I was doing and it made me a little nervous.

Then there was Coach Harrison, the lacrosse coach-_my lacrosse coach. _I usually took a shower right after practice. I didn't have a problem with that until that turning-point fourth week. It was then I began to feel like I was being watched while showering. That was even more unnerving than any lewd comment from Coleman. I knew Harrison was watching me; for what reason I didn't want to think about.

It was difficult to stay in character when they were near me, especially when I was alone. I was Tommy McQuaid, not Tom Hanson. But even Tommy McQuaid would be unsettled by all three of them. Or more appropriate, freaked-out. I had to be careful of how much of my agitation I let show. Particularly to Doug.

We had been there for almost six weeks (far too long) and had barely put a dent in our investigation. School would be out in seven and as long as that seemed, we were running out of time. I was beginning to think this case was nothing but a wild goose chase.

"McQuaid!" My head snapped up. "Get in there!"

"Yes, Coach!" I jumped up off the bench and jogged out to the field.

"Pay attention, boy!"

"Yes, Sir!" was my external response. However, my internal response was, _It would be a lot easier to pay attention if you would stop watching me take a shower, you frickin' pedophile. _But I refrained from saying it aloud. Out in the field at transition my mind started to wander. I knew something was going to happen. The three of them were up to something. I just didn't know when, how or what. There was a sudden sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach and I started to feel nauseous. And then my butt was planted firmly on the ground. I had no idea what had just happened.

I felt a hand on my arm. "You okay?"

I looked up to see my team mate Emile Gatineau, a French-Canadian student, kneeling down next to me. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Man, I ain't never seen anyone take a check like that. Did you even know you had the ball?"

He helped me to my feet as Harrison yelled at me. "McQuaid! Concentrate!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Coach!" _It would be a lot easier if you didn't give me reason to think of other things, you sicko._

The rest of practice was uneventful. And with the rest of the team showering at the same time, I didn't have to worry about Harrison's eyes being on me. There were three sets of showers at the school. One in each of the locker rooms and one in the dorms. I felt far less violated cleaning up in the dormitory showers.

I knew I should tell Doug. But honestly, there wasn't much to tell other than the fact that I was dealing with a bunch of perverts. They hadn't done anything to me, yet, and I was praying our assignment would be over before they made the decision _to do _something. But I had a feeling they already had.

On Fridays school was over by one-thirty, which meant I had a little over an hour before practice. Doug wanted to meet with me in private to discuss the investigation. Apparently, something had finally come up.

Sitting in our dorm, in relative silence at first, Doug looked me over.

"You okay?"

I must have had a bemused expression on my face. But it was difficult not to think about what could possibly happen after practice. I was in no hurry to get there.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I shook it off. "So'd you find anything?"

"Might actually have a lead," Doug said, sitting down across from me.

"Really," I replied, a little more excited than I should have been. "That's great."

"Definitely more than one involved."

"Any idea if they're students or faculty?"

"Not sure. But my guess is both."

I groaned and collapsed back on my bed. This wasn't what I wanted to hear.

"Tom? Is there something you wanna tell me?"

"No," I answered a little too quickly. "You're raising your eyebrows at me, aren't you?"

"Uh…yeah."

_That tone_. I hate that tone. Though, it was my fault. My reactions were giving him cause to question me. _Way to go, Hanson_. I sat back up. Whatever look I had on my face made Doug forego what he had on the case and focus on me.

"Alright. There's something you're not telling me. What is it?" His stare was intense. I wasn't going to get away with saying "nothing." But I said it anyway.

"Nothing."

"Tom."

"It's nothing. Just let it go."

And so began an argument. That brotherly squabbling that me and Doug had become prone to. After about twenty minutes of bickering, he switched back to the investigation as if the argument had never taken place. Something both of us were becoming good at.

"From what I've been able to piece together, there's a possibility that this goes beyond the school."

I felt my eyeballs bug. "You've gotta be kidding."

"Michael Hayes approached me just before our first class, asking me if I 'needed a little help at home.' Of course, playing ignorant, I tell him I don't know what he's talking about. So he tells me he knows what's been going on with us. He's seen our records."

"Really," I said, thoroughly intrigued. "Didn't know that stuff was i_n _our records."

"That's what I said to him. So he says to me, 'I'm more observant than you think I am'."

Now I was raising an eyebrow. We were finally getting somewhere. Maybe we would be out of there before Harrison or the other two tried anything. But then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"What'd you tell him?"

"I said, 'Okay, I'll go with that'. He says he knows how he can help me and you. Says he can hook up with someone who can give me what I need."

"But he didn't tell you who."

"Not exactly. I ask him 'who', he says don't worry about it, _they _ain't here." He paused for a moment. "Don't wanna jump to any conclusions, but that makes me think that this is coming from the outside."

I picked up my sneakers. "The school houses post-grads, too. You think it could be any of them?"

"Possibly. I'm gonna see what I can find out. Three of them are acting as chaperones on our fieldtrip tomorrow."

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "I'd better get to practice." I knew I sounded like I didn't want to go. Which really didn't mean anything. I was supposed to be Tommy McQuaid; a teenager. I didn't have to be eager to be at every practice. Doug showed concern, anyway.

"Look, I know you hate it when I do this. But really, Tommy. Is everything okay?"

I replied with, "I'm fine, Doug, really. Everything's fine," while in the back of my mind screaming at myself to tell him the truth.

He didn't believe me. That was obvious without the expression on his face. But he let it go.

I stood up. "Better get to practice."

"See ya at dinner."

I had the overwhelming urge to create havoc over the weekend. Although with my current streak of luck, I'd end up getting caught and wind up under the 'watchful eyes' of one of my fans. As much as I could joke about it, I was deathly afraid of being at school all day without Doug there. It was a senior fieldtrip, so there was no way I could weasel my way in. I was going to be on my own for eight hours…and I was dreading it. But that was tomorrow. I still had today's practice to deal with. I was sure Coach Pervy would find a way to watch me shower.

"Cuttin' it a little close, McQuaid?"

_Josh Bielski_; a senior in my shop class. We had become good friends over the past six weeks.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be me."

He shook his head.

As I changed into my practice gear the thundering voice of Coach Harrison echoed through the locker room with my name. "McQuaid!"

"You bellowed, Coach," I said under my breath as he approached. I looked up at the looming figure now standing next to me. "Yeah, Coach?"

The man was well over six foot, probably about six-five. And being as muscular as he was, if he ever fell on me, he'd likely crush me to death.

"I need to see you after practice."

"Yes, sir." Oh, rapture. Can't wait for our little meeting, Coach Sleazeball.

Practice went as usual, though shortened, and Harrison let everyone but me go. His excuse for keeping me after was to run some shooting drills with the assistant coach. After forty minutes, he told me to hit the showers. By then, everyone else was gone and I was left alone, exhausted and scared out of my mind.

His eyes were on me once again. I could feel them violating every inch of me. If I wasn't already in the raw, he'd probably be undressing me in his sick little mind. Something he was likely doing while watching me run drills with Coach Bergquist. I felt like a piece of meat.

Taking my shower as quickly as possible, I couldn't help imagining him walking up behind me and grabbing me, doing whatever his perverted-self pleased. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the images out of my mind. I was afraid to turn around. But I couldn't stay there forever. Taking a deep breath I turned around. No one was there. Sighing with relief, I shut the water off and wrapped my towel around myself. The locker room was empty, but I still made quick work of drying off and getting dressed. _And made even quicker work of getting the hell out of there_. Harrison may have left, but that didn't mean that Coleman or, especially, Nick couldn't show up. Or maybe the three of them were having a meeting, discussing what their pedophiliac desires wanted to do withme. The very thought made me want to vomit.

When I got to my dorm, Doug was waiting for me. "What took you so long? You're team mates are already out."

"Coach kept me after to run drills," I said, dropping down onto my bed.

"You okay? You look exhausted."

"I am." _And then some_.

"You too exhausted for dinner?"

I sat up. "No."

"Come on. Let's go."

That inner voice of mine kept telling me I needed to tell Doug. But I had become accustomed to ignoring it. And fear was starting to take over. Fear would tell me that "Doug will just tell you you're being paranoid."

I couldn't get my mind off Saturday. Something was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it. Doug would be on a fieldtrip. Sure, I could feign illness, but that would just open the door for Nick. I was screwed no matter what.

"Tommy. Thomas."

"Huh?"

"Are you sure yer okay? You've barely touched yer food. And you haven't said a word since we sat down."

I looked up at Doug. Apparently, I'd spaced out. "Sorry. Just having trouble focusing."

"Somethin' goin' on? With practice or something'?"

"No. Everything's fine," I said as calmly as I could. I hated lying to Doug. Especially when I felt like this. I had a feeling that this case wouldn't be over until school was out. With my luck, that meant seven weeks of hell.

**xxx**

I almost forgot to edit this. That would not have been good. Anyway, hope this was enough of a hook.

Until next time.

.


	2. Chapter 2

This is the chapter in which I do horrible, unspeakable things to Tom. Though I'm not the first to do such. But I'm sure I'll be the first to do other horrible things to him. It's a good thing Tom Hanson and Doug Penhall are fictional characters; otherwise they'd likely kill me for all the things I'm going to do. And I'm sure the other characters would kill me, too.

**Chapter Two**

That night I found it virtually impossible to sleep. If all my tossing and turning kept Doug awake, he was kind enough not to say anything. But knowing how deeply Doug can sleep-considering the night I stayed at his place, got up at three o' clock in the morning and made enough noise to wake the dead and he didn't budge-it probably didn't faze him. I was so restless, I was both happy and terrified that tomorrow was Saturday. Happy that I wouldn't have class to fall asleep in and terrified because Doug would be gone most of the day. It was so absurd to me to feel that way. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen, whether or not Doug was here. I guess I just felt safer with him around.

I fell asleep sometime before dawn and was awoken at eight by Doug to let me know he was leaving for his fieldtrip. I gave him a groggy good-bye and fell back asleep. Waking on my own around eleven, I decided to stay in my room until lunch. I didn't have anything I wanted to do before then and practice wasn't until three. _Practice._ The mere thought of it sent chills down my spine.

There are few things worse than knowing something terrible is going to happen to either you or someone you love and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it.

As I changed my clothes I realized how much I was shaking. I had to calm myself down before I left my room. The last thing I needed was people asking me if I was okay. I couldn't think of a really good lie to use. At least not one that was believable.

I took a deep breath. "Compose yourself, Thomas."

Regaining my composure, I headed down to the dining hall for lunch. Though I remained a little skittish, no one seemed to take notice.

At lunch, I didn't talk to anyone. Nor did I eat much. And with an hour and a half before practice, I headed back up to my dorm. Collapsing on my bed, staring at the ceiling, every possible scenario of what Harrison might do to me began flashing through my mind. My bed suddenly felt like it was vibrating. I lifted my hand into my line of sight. It was me, not my bed.

"This is ridiculous," I said aloud, sitting up. "Okay, so the guy's a perv. Doesn't mean he's gonna do anything." And now I was pacing, talking to myself. "Of course, that doesn't mean he's _not_ gonna do anything. What…am I magnet for perverts now?" I flopped down onto Doug's bed, starting to feel nauseous. "Man, this sucks."

I couldn't skip out on practice. Glancing at the clock, I groaned. There was still an hour till practice. So I grabbed my book off the nightstand. _The Chronicles of Narnia._ Maybe Aslan could help me out.

I was eight chapters in to _Voyage of the Dawn Treader,_ when I noticed the time. _Two forty three._ Trying to get off Doug's bed a little too fast, my brain, wanting to take revenge on me for jarring it-even though slightly-decided that my face should meet the floor. That really hurt. I had no time to deal with the pain, though. If I didn't get moving I was going to be late. And that would _not _bode well for me. Not that being on time would make a difference.

_I had never been so scared in my life._

There was a spirit of terror filling me as I ran to the gym and into the locker room. Fortunately, when I got there, everyone was still changing. I was sure Harrison had seen me come in late. Yeah…I was in for it. Big time.

"Cuttin' it a little close there, are ya, Tommy."

Colin Ruskin, a student from Scotland. Someone else I had become friends with.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I said, putting my equipment on as fast as I could.

Then came the bellowing voice of Coach Harrison. "Let's go, gentlemen."

I must have reacted in some way to Harrison's voice. Colin put his hand on my shoulder and said, "You alright, there?"

I looked at him. "Yeah…yeah I'm fine."

For the next hour and a half, practice was practice. I was constantly being yelled at, but run no more than the rest of the team. Yet I was still tiring quicker. Although I shouldn't have been surprised when Harrison held me up after practice, I was. What wasn't surprising was his running me to near exhaustion. Coach Bergquist had left with the rest of the team, so I wouldn't be getting any reprieve from him.

In that short half hour, Harrison had me running so hard that by the end of the thirty minutes, when he yelled "That's enough, McQuaid!", my legs finally gave out. My knees buckled underneath me and I collapsed to the ground. I was breathing harder than I ever had before. My lungs felt like they were on fire; my heart was pounding so hard I was expecting it to burst out of my chest; my calves and thighs were burning. Sweat was pouring down my face, stinging my eyes. My shoulders and back were killing me and my arms were ready to fall off. I just wanted to close my eyes and lay right there on the ground. The pain and exhaustion was so overwhelming…I didn't care what Harrison did to me.

And that was his plan all along.

It was his way of beating me into submission without laying a finger on me. Now I would be too exhausted to fight back. He hadn't touched me. But he had already won.

I felt his hands on my arms, pulling me to my feet. How I longed to hear Doug's voice telling me "I'm right here, Tommy. Ev'rything's gonna be okay" but instead I heard Harrison's rough voice saying, "Come on, kid. Time to hit the showers. It'll make you feel better."

In a weak, barely audible voice, I replied, "I just wanna lay down."

He didn't reply, only half-dragged me to the locker room, and them set me down on the bench in front of my locker. I sat there for a few moments as he walked away. Being exhausted, I wasn't thinking straight. I disrobed and headed right for the showers.

The warm, cascading water felt so good on my sore body. My mind was paralyzed with fatigue. I never saw him approach. I never heard him. My eyes were closed and my mind felt like it was floating listlessly along down a quiet stream. I leaned my forehead against the wall, letting my shoulders drop. With my eyes closed, my body finally relaxing and the sound of the water, my surroundings were almost serene. I was falling into a false sense of security. I imagined myself floating along a quiet river, past waterfalls, with the soothing sounds of the water and a light, warm breeze rustling the trees.

My serenity was suddenly ripped away from me. My eyes flew open and my body stiffened. Someone was touching me…somewhere I did _not _want to be touched. I felt something hard at my backside. An 'Oh, God, no' escaped my lips.

I knew it was Harrison. I tried to turn my head to look at him, but he stopped me. "Be still," he whispered soothingly into my ear. I wanted to vomit.

One of his hands stayed on my genitals while the other moved up to my chest. "Calm down, Tommy. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack."

"Then get away from me." My voice was weak and shaky. I could feel tears beginning to fall.

As much as I wanted to fight, I couldn't. I was at his mercy and he wasn't about to show me any. I knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt. But I begged for it anyway.

I felt his hands all over me, hands that didn't give a crap that I was begging for this to stop. It felt as though my terror was making him more excited. And then…. I wanted to scream. I tried to, but my voice failed me. It was everything that he wanted, what he thought _I_ deserved.

With his mouth next to my ear he whispered, "This is what bad boys like you deserve." His voice made my skin crawl. "Too bad your brother's not here to watch."

"If my brother was here, he'd rip your throat out," I choked out between sobs.

"Is that so?"

I returned a pathetic "Yeah…."

What he said next put a fear into my heart that stayed with me for years, even after he was arrested and imprisoned. "This won't be the last time, Tommy. I'll have you again and again. Even after you leave this place."

And then he left me collapsed on the floor of the showers, sobbing.

I don't know how long I sat there before I started scrubbing myself down. I was still crying. I had to regain my composure before I headed back to my dorm. After drying off and dressing quickly, I took a look at my watch. _Five-eighteen._ Doug would be back in a little over an hour. Wiping my eyes and taking a deep breath, I headed to my room, trying my best to avoid everyone. I held my tears back long enough to make it back to my dorm; but as soon as I closed the door, my tears started to fall again. I laid down on my bed, burying my face into my pillow.

Clearly, I had fallen asleep because the next thing I was aware of was a hand on my shoulder, shaking me; and Doug's voice. "Tommy. Hey, buddy, wake up."

My eyes slowly opened as I looked up at him. "Doug…. What time is it?"

"After eight."

"Why didn't you wake me up for dinner?" Not that I was hungry.

"Just got back. Had to take a detour, so we had dinner at a restaurant."

I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. "Oh."

"You okay?"

"Yeah…. Just a lot more tired than I thought."

"Harrison run you hard at practice?"

"Yeah…." _You have no idea. _

I wanted to tell him what happened, what Harrison did to me. _But I couldn't. _I lay on my bed, trying to will myself to speak. I was spilling my guts to Doug in my head…. It was the one moment when I wished Doug really could read my mind.

Even though I couldn't bring myself to tell him, there was one comforting fact: Doug was there with me. I wasn't alone.

"Hey, the dining hall's still open. Want me at go get ya somethin'?"

"No, it's fine. I'm not really hungry."

"You feelin' okay?"

"Yeah…just tired." It wasn't a lie. At least, not the _tired_ part.

Doug knelt down next to my bed, staring at me. "You don't look so good, Tommy. You sure yer feelin' okay?" He started to feel my forehead and temples. Great. My big brother was going to mother hen me to death. "You don't feel that warm."

"Duh-uhg…. Stop…." I batted his hand away.

"Hey, I'm just makin' sure yer okay."

I was too tired to argue much, so I let Doug's mothering go. He sat down next to my bed and looked at me. "I know there's somethin' else, Tommy. I really wish you'd tell me."

I didn't say anything. I was just too tired. The last thing I heard from Doug… "Sleep tight, pal."

Sunday rolled around and me and Doug spent the day hanging out with each other, almost forgetting what we were there for; and for a moment, forgetting who we really were. It was a small taste of freedom I hadn't had since before my dad was killed. For one day, I really was a kid again; Doug was my brother and I didn't have a care in the world. Everything that had happened the day before didn't matter. I told myself that I would tell Doug what happened later. I just had yet to decide how much later.

We played football with some of our classmates out in the field between the dorms and the main building and a pick-up game of baseball on the practice field. And best of all, there was no sign of my fan club.

But like all good things, that day had to come to an end. And a new week had to begin.

Monday at practice, Harrison ran me like a race horse again. He ran the whole team almost as hard. I'm sure it would have been worse for me had Doug not been there watching. Harrison used the excuse for the tough practice of having a game on Thursday. We needed to work a little harder.

"That's how he runs practice?" Doug said to me after practice.

"That?" I looked at him, ready to laugh. "That was an easy day for me."

He looked at me incredulously. "That was an easy day?"

"Yep."

"That's just messed up."

"Come on…I'm hungry."

After dinner Doug filled me in on the progress he'd made on the case. At least two faculty members were involved, but he wasn't sure who, yet. I was secretly hoping it was my three admirers. _I don't have that kind of luck._

"I hate school," I groaned, slamming my grammar book closed and dropping my head on the desk.

"Hey, look at it this way," Doug said, sitting down on his bed, "we're the _McQuaid brothers. _No one expects anything out of us."

I snorted at the comment. It was true enough.

"When's yer next game?"

"Thursday."

"Who we playin'?"

"St. George's."

I went back to my grammar book as Doug decided to read. Glancing over at him, I noticed he was reading _Voyage of the Dawn Treader. _"You guys are readin' _The Chronicles of Narnia _in your class?"

"Yep. And not just readin' it. Studyin' it."

"Man, how come you get all the good stuff?"

He grinned at me. "Hey, don't worry. Next year when yer a senior, you'll get the good stuff."

I glared at him. "Har-har."

We went to bed around ten-thirty (like we were supposed to as students). I hadn't been feeling well, but didn't think anything of it. I was sure I'd be fine by morning. _I was wrong._ I woke up around two-thirty, coughing my head off and feeling nauseous. And for once, it actually woke Doug up.

"Hey, you okay?" He sounded pretty awake for the middle of the night.

A pretty pathetic 'no' came out of my mouth, followed by a slightly less pathetic 'I think I'm gonna be sick.'

As another wave of nausea hit me, I felt Doug pulling me up out of bed. "Come on, pal. Let's get you to the bathroom before our dorm gets redecorated."

I spent the next half hour praying to the porcelain god. I'm pretty sure that's not the kind of offering any god would be looking for. It makes a burnt offering look like a gourmet meal.

"Yer burnin' up," he said, feeling my temples as I hugged my new best friend, Mr. Toilet Bowl. "You feel like ya need at puke some more?"

I shook my head 'no.'

"You ready ta go back ta bed?"

I nodded 'yes' and he helped me to my feet.

"Ya might wanna rinse yer mouth out first."

Of course. Who really likes the taste of vomit in their mouth.

I continued to cough and be all-around uncomfortable for the rest of the night. Which was about two and a half hours. At some point during that time I had kicked my covers off and had begun sweating profusely. Doug was positive I had a fever. _Clearly._ You usually don't sweat while sleeping when it's cool in the room and your body temperature is normal. Hopefully, all I had was the flu.

"It could be mono," Doug said as he headed out to get the nurse.

"Thank you for putting that in my head, brother," I yelled after him.

Let's see. Fever…Check; vomiting…check; fatigue…check; sore throat…checkaroo. I suddenly found myself searching my body for petechiae.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," I said quietly to myself. "I'm turning into a hypochondriac."

I must have fallen asleep , or was completely out of it, because I didn't notice Doug come back in with the nurse, Dr. Kilkenny. (Technically, he was the school's physician, not the nurse.) I have to say, I really liked Dr. Kilkenny. He wasn't old, but definitely old enough to be my father. Probably in his late forties.

I ended up having mono. Which I decided to blame Doug for. And not because he kissed me or anything creepy like that. I would say 'I wouldn't put it past him'; but since he already has before, I won't say that. The kiss was on the cheek, mind you. I'm still waiting for him to pull a ninja move on me and nail me on the lips.

I really wish I could've heard the conversation between Doug and Jenko when Doug informed him that I had mono. Needless to say, my illness threw a monkey wrench into our case. At least, for me. However, it did keep Harrison away from me for awhile. And it would keep Coleman away from me. Nick the Nurse, on the other hand, had free reign.

_And that scared the hell out of me._

"I'll check on ya at lunch, okay," Doug said to me after Dr. Kilkenny left.

"Yeah…."

"See ya later, bro."

Doug tends to stick to his word. He was back at our dorm, checking on me at lunch. I was sleeping light, so I heard the door open, but was too tired to make an effort to acknowledge it.

"Hey, pal."

I opened my eyes. "Hey."

"How ya feelin'?"

"Like crap."

Doug sighed. "Well, looks like yer gonna miss the rest of the season."

"Yeah…."

"Guess I'll leave ya at get some rest. See ya after class."

"See ya."

I'm not sure how long I was asleep before Nick paid me a visit. I was too tired to notice him enter my room. Nor did I notice him approach my bed. Strangely though, a shiver ran through my body from head to toe just before I opened my eyes.

He was on top of me with his hand over my mouth before I was even aware that he was in my room. I struggled to get free, but it proved futile. My fatigue was only aiding him in his endeavor to have his way with me. As useless as it was, I began to struggle harder when he reached behind his back. I didn't want to know what he had brought with him. My eyes widened in horror as he dangled restraints in front of my eyes.

There are a lot of things you can accomplish in three point three seconds. Getting away from Nick the Nurse was not one of them. However, restraining my right arm to the bedpost was. I only know this because he made a point to tell me so. He must of practiced quite a bit to get it down to that. I'm still not quite sure if I want to know what-or who-he may have practiced on to get it down to three point three seconds. He also felt the need to inform me that that was also the amount of time it took to get from the door to my bed. There are a lot of things in this world that I do not need to know. _That _was one of them.

After restraining my arms, he did the same to my legs. I began fighting like a madman against my restraints as he pulled my pants down. But the harder I fought, the quicker I tired out. I tried to scream, but like with Harrison, my voice failed me. My inability to cry out for help frightened me. _Nick_ seemed to get off on my helplessness. _And that frightened me even more._

I realized three things in that moment: one, I am not into bondage; two, I do not like bedposts. I could live a long and happy life without either of these two things being a part of it. As for the third thing, I think I just might take an extra second or two to accomplish stuff.

He wasn't there for more than an hour; but when you're being assaulted, mere minutes can feel like an eternity. I would rather have the crap beat out of me than go through that. I laid quietly in my bed for a half hour after Nick left, crying. I couldn't help it and I didn't try to stop. It sounds absurd to say it, but having mono was a godsend. Being ill made it easier to hide what was happening. Drying my eyes and face, I got up and headed for the showers; though I made a pit stop at Spewget Sound. (Pardon my word-play, but even now it helps me relive these moments without breaking down.) And ended up with some of it on myself. Great excuse for having different clothes on. I had thought about burning them. And my bed sheets.

I scrubbed down as if I had been covered in tar. Certain parts of my body got more attention. I got out of the showers and back to my dorm as quick as I could, having no desire to run into anyone. Back in my room, I stared at my bed, wondering if I should change my sheets. But the mono I had was about to knock me out. So I crawled into bed, pulling the sheet and blanket tight around me and fell asleep.

I woke some hours later to Doug sitting on his bed reading.

"Hey, there, sleepyhead," he said as I tried to focus on him. "How ya feelin'?"

"Worse than this morning," I replied hoarsely, no thanks to my worsening sore throat.

"Tried ta wake ya up for dinner." He got off his bed and knelt down next to mine. "But you didn't wanna get up. Dr. Kilkenny said you need to try and eat somethin' tomorrow."

I groaned and closed my eyes. And then Doug felt it necessary to give me a kiss on the forehead. I groaned again. "I know you're grinning."

"Sorry. Couln't resist. Yer just so adorable."

"Doug…. Quit pinchin' my cheeks." I swatted his hands away from my face and turned around.

"Hey, at least they're the ones on yer face."

"Funny."

I was back in class two weeks later. Doug made more progress on the case. Unfortunately, it didn't look like my fan club was involved in any way. None of them had bothered me since that Tuesday, but there was still five weeks of school left. Jenko wanted us to stay until then. Five more weeks of hell. Sure. I could deal with that.

I still wasn't cleared for lacrosse, or phys ed. in general, which was perfectly fine with me. I didn't want to step anywhere near that locker room. Me and Doug took the next two weeks to work unimpeded on the case. Well, as unimpeded as was possible. While we knew for certain that at least two faculty members were involved, student involvement was still up in the air. There were plenty of students who knew something about what we were looking for. But that didn't mean they were a part of it. Doug was having far more luck than I was.

That is until I was approached by a post-grad that made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

Victor Prowse. I didn't know him all that well. But he clearly knew me and my personal Hell.

"I know what's going on," he said to me after classes one day during those two weeks. "I know what they're doing to you."

I furrowed my brow. "What?"

"We're not all ignorant here. However, that doesn't mean anyone's gonna say anything."

"What exactly do you want?"

"I have an offer for you."

"You think it's somethin' I'm gonna want?"

He looked at me and grinned. "Oh, yeah. But it's not what you think." Pausing for a moment, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. "I know what you and you're brother want, but I don't have _that._ This is for you." He handed me the paper. "You want it, you just let me know. It'll take care of your problem. They'll leave you alone."

After he walked away, I looked at the paper. Written on it was the name of a drug. What it was exactly, I wasn't sure; but it did look familiar. Something I was sure would knock you out if it got into your bloodstream. Which, I was guessing, was the idea. Now it looked like we had a little more to this case than the selling of illegal arms. Then again, this could turn out to be nothing. But at the same time, I couldn't push the idea from my mind. The idea to go for it; to jab that needle into Harrison or Nick the next time they tried anything.

But I couldn't risk it. And it wouldn't be right. Regardless of what they did to me. My morals didn't make it any less tempting, though.

"Hey, Tommy-boy."

I looked up to see Doug coming towards me. "Hey."

"What did Prowse want?" he asked, sitting down next to me on the bench.

"Nothin'. Any luck?"

"It's all gonna come down to getting' students to talk." He sighed. "There's no tellin' how long that's gonna take."

"If any of them talk at all." We were silent for a moment. "Anything else from that Hayes kid?"

"Nothin' useful."

I must have spaced out for a bit because Doug was soon asking me if I was okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I know I should tell Doug what Victor had said. But that would mean revealing to him what had happened to me…and I wasn't ready for that.

"Come on." Doug pulled me off the bench. "Let's go to the ball field and watch 'em practice till dinner."

"Doug…the concessions will not be open. No matter how much you want it to be."

He put his arm around my shoulders. "A guy can dream, little brother."

The following Tuesday I was cleared to play. I acted happy about it, but it wasn't entirely so. My first few practices back, Harrison went easy on me. We were into the state tournament and it looked like we were headed for the championship. The championship game was scheduled for the Saturday before our final week of school. Harrison was so focused on the tournament, messing with me seemed to be at the back of his mind. However, Nick and Coleman were still available to fill in. Coleman hadn't touched me, yet; but he had ample time to do so.

This case couldn't go by fast enough.

I was left alone that first week I was back playing lacrosse. Then Memorial Day rolled around. I ended up cutting myself working on a project for my shop class that morning. We had a game that night, but the injury wasn't going to put me out of the game. Still, I was sent to the nurse. Unfortunately, Dr. Kilkenny was gone for the weekend and wouldn't be back until game time.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as Mr. Maslow escorted me to the nurse's office. I had no choice but to see Nick. The office was devoid of students. Mr. Maslow then left me in the "capable hands of Mr. Evans."

Yes, Nick Evans' hands were quite capable of doing a lot of things. _As I found out again that morning._ I didn't cry this time. I couldn't. Doug would be looking for me; there was still quite a few students on campus. I couldn't hide in there for half an hour without somebody noticing. Besides, I had a game in five hours.

Doug had been working on a project himself for a class. He met me at the dining hall for lunch.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked me as we sat down.

"Cut it workin' on my project for shop."

He grimaced. "Ya gonna be able to play?"

"Yeah, it's superficial. Won't be a problem."

I seemed to have been doing a decent job keeping my emotions in check, Doug hadn't asked me if I was okay. Maybe he just thought I was preparing myself for the game.

"You in there, Tommy?"

"Huh?" So I zoned out.

"You got a weird way of psyching yerself up for a game."

I grimaced at him. "This is a huge game. We win this, we'll be in the final four."

"Look at this." Doug grinned.

"What?"

"Who woulda guessed that tough-guy Tommy McQuaid would be concerned with a sporting event."

"Shut up," I said, grimacing again.

Finishing lunch, I told Doug I needed to get something from our room and that I would meet him in the courtyard. Heading to the dorms, I felt a lump forming in my throat. I refused to cry again, but my desire to hold my tears back was proving futile. One trickled down my face as I entered my room. Slumping down into the corner by my bed, I started sobbing.

I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

**xxx**

Some of the future chapters will focus on Tom's relationship with Jenko. A few new ideas popped into my head last night. Jenko will be around a lot longer in my story than he was in the show. However, Fuller will be coming into the story in the future.

I'm not sure when chapter three will be up. I'm getting a new computer here soon. There's no telling when everything will be ready. Anyway, hope this chapter was good.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three is finally here. Sorry it took so long. I got stuck in a few places. Hopefully, it's worth the wait. And hpefully, I caught all my mistakes._

**Chapter Three**

This had to be the worst case I had ever been on. It wasn't just because of the assault. There was the mono. And now I found myself lying out in the middle of the lacrosse field flat on my back, staring up at the sky, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors circling in front of my face.

I had no idea what had happened.

All I knew was that I had had the ball, there was no one near me besides the opposing goalie, and I was ready to take a shot. I don't remember anything after that. According to Doug and Dr. Kilkenny, I had collapsed just before I took the shot. Evidently, I had blacked-out. Dr. Kilkenny wasn't sure what had caused it and—needless to say—I had to sit out the rest of the game.

We ended up winning the game, but my chances of seeing the semis or the championship were next to nil. Dr. Kilkenny wanted to find out what had caused my blackout, whether it was related to the mono or was something else entirely. I honestly didn't care one way or the other. I wanted out of that school. There was nine days left. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it through.

"You plannin' on movin' any time soon?" Doug said to me as I lay on my bed and he sat on his, watching me.

"I have nothing to do till dinner. So I'm going to do nothing."

"Well, aren't you just Dr. Fun Times."

I groaned. "We've been here too long."

"You say that about ev'ry case."

"Because it's true about ev'ry case."

"I'd say it's nice to see you gettin' back to normal, but I don't think that 's possible for you."

"Oh, shut up."

"Considering you were never normal in the first place."

"Har-har."

There's an unbelievably obscure punctuation rule that no normal people know or follow that states that a semicolon should be placed before a conjunction if a comma appears elsewhere in the sentence. The fact that I both know and follow this rule once and for all settles the question of my normalcy. I know most people who read this will see me apply this rule and think I've made an error. However, I'm sure a few die-hard grammarians will get a hold of this and shed tears of joy that someone has used the semicolon correctly.

After Doug reads this bit, I'll never hear the end of it. This is only going to add fuel to the "Tease Tommy" fire.

Even though I had blacked-out the previous day, I was feeling pretty good. And I was pretty sure that _not_ being around the 'devotees of Tommy McQuaid' may have played a small part in said happiness.

Of course, I had to kill my own joy by allowing the thought of what they could do to me in the days left. Coleman hadn't had his turn yet.

"Tommy…. Tom…."

I don't try to zone-out. It just happens. "Huh?"

"Ya go somewhere there, bro?"

Before I give you my reply, let me just say that I would make a great orator.

"Yeah, sure…. I don't know…."

Doug said to me, sarcastically, of course, "You'd make a great orator."

See. He agrees.

Silence fell between us as Doug leaned back and began to read. I started thinking about the past few weeks and everything that had happened. I felt a tear trickle down my left cheek; the side away from Doug. Not that he would have noticed with his nose buried in his book.

"Can I ask you something Doug?" Maybe I could tell him without actually telling him.

"Shoot."

"If a really good friend of yours—a guy—told you that he was being sexually assaulted, would you believe him?"

"Why?" He sat up quickly, setting his book down. "Did somebody do somethin' to you?"

"No," I said, trying not to sound anxious. "I'm fine. Just would you believe him?"

He sat on the edge of his bed, concern in his eyes. "Of course, I would." He got off his bed and knelt down next to mine, saying softly, "Tom…. Did something happen to you?"

Okay, Thomas, time to see how good your fibbing skills are.

Looking at him I said flatly, "No. I was just curious."

I know he didn't believe me, but he didn't say anything further and sat back down on his bed.

I turned onto my stomach and stared at the wall.

"Tommy…."

"Is it time for dinner, yet?"

"What happened to you? Did Harrison do somethin' to you?"

Asking my question opened up a can of worms. Not that that particular situation wasn't already unpleasant. Lying now was going to be even more difficult.

I shut my eyes tight.

"Tom…."

I felt his hand on my back. When I didn't respond, he spoke again.

"Damn it. He did do somethin' to ya."

I rolled onto my side, still facing the wall, shutting my eyes tighter to prevent the tears welling up in my eyes from falling. I laid there in silence, unable to speak.

"Tommy…."

His voice was soft and gentle, like it always was when he was concerned. This was prime opportunity to tell him. But I just couldn't bring myself to say anything. Maybe he simply thought that Harrison was beating me. He did witness the way Harrison ran practice, even though it was a toned down version of the way he normally ran me. Or maybe Doug did think it was something more.

"Hey, we'll be outta here next Thursday." He paused. "I wish you would talk to me."

I was wishing I could.

The next few days were spent investigating, finally narrowing down our suspects. We knew that two faculty members were involved in the arms dealing for sure, possibly one more. Chemistry professor Mark Bennett was our prime suspect. One of the math professors, Andrew Claypoole, was also on our list. When I talked to one of my team mates on Thursday, he implicated another faculty member. I asked him about any students he thought could be involved. He shrugged and said that if there were any involved they were likely post-grads. They could leave campus a lot easier, even more so than the teachers. Doug would have to deal with the post-grads.

I desperately wanted Harrison and Nick to be implicated; but with the last day of school coming up fast, I knew that wasn't going to happen. Besides, why would two men who are sexually aroused by teenage boys and act on their perverted impulses, want to compromise those desires by getting involved with illegal arms dealing.

Every time I thought about them a chill would run down my spine. But I would be out of that school in less than a week and I would never see them again. So I hoped.

I left the post-grads to Doug. Their involvement was more probable than that of the current student body. Those I knew didn't appear to have any knowledge of an illegal arms ring. I was running short on people to talk to. With little to focus on, my fear of Harrison, Nick, and even Coleman, began to overwhelm me. I couldn't help thinking about what they had planned for me over these last few days of school. _School…._ Even with all this investigating, through all this police work me and Dougie were doing, I still felt like nothing more than a teenage boy going through hell at a school he didn't want to be at. This must be how Tommy McQuaid, were he real, felt. How difficult would it be for Tommy to tell his older brother what was happening to him?

As I sat on the bench outside of the basketball courts that final Sunday afternoon waiting for Doug, a few students that I didn't know rushed past me, nearly knocking me off the bench.

_Seriously?_

I was fairly certain they did it on purpose. This kind of thing happened to me on a daily basis when I was actually in high school. As annoying as it was, I would much rather deal with that than be sexually assaulted by members of the faculty. _Or by anyone._

I was constantly on guard, waiting for Nick, Harrison or Coleman to show up. But they never did. That only worsened my anxiety.

I moved off the bench and onto the ground and began to pick at the grass, watching some of the students play basketball. My sunlight suddenly disappeared as I picked a few blades. I didn't look up, afraid of who might be standing behind me. Ignoring the new presence, I continued to pluck the grass in front of me.

"Well, Mr. McQuaid." A chill ran down my spine at the sound of his voice. _Coleman. _The only one of the Pervy Trio that hadn't touched me. _Yet._ "Are you ready for your final?"

If he was going to do anything, it wouldn't be today. However, he still had four days to accomplish whatever his pedophiliac mind could come up with.

"Always," I replied, working on making a bare patch.

"That's good to hear."

_Yes, it is. Now go away and leave me alone, you freak._

"McQuaid."

_Great. Here comes sicko number two. Don't you have a championship to go celebrate? _

Oh, by the way, we did win the lacrosse state championship. I didn't play, but I was on the bench for the game and I did celebrate with the team at our championship party. As soon as it was over, however, I put as much distance between myself and Harrison as I could. And now, the following afternoon, he was breathing down my neck. _Figuratively, thankfully._

"Yeah…" I said in a slow, slightly obnoxious tone. You know, like a teenager. There were some moments that I did enjoy.

"You're having a team photo taken tomorrow afternoon out on the field."

'You' meant 'just the team.' No coaches, no trainers. Just the players. The photo was for the team as a memento of the season. This particular season would feature us wearing our championship ball caps, and include our championship banner and trophy. That was a memento I didn't mind having; a memento I still have. I often wonder where all those guys are now. Maybe I'll see some of them again one day.

"I'll be there."

I continued to pluck the blades of grass and tie the longer ones in knots, waiting for the third member of the unholy trinity to make his appearance. But Nick never showed. And I was quite relieved when the other two left.

Why couldn't they just have forgotten that I ever existed?

I got up off the ground and sat back down on the bench, lengthwise, pulling my knees up to my chest. I told Doug I would wait for him there, but I preferred to be in our dorm. And while my home was the place I most wanted to be, I would soon find out that my dorm with Doug was the safest place I _could_ be.

"Hey, Tommy," Doug shouted as he ran up to me, making me jump. "Move yer legs." Why he tells me to do something while he does it himself, I still haven't figured out. Sitting down next to me he continued in a whisper, "I do believe we got our man. Well, men."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Come on."

He yanked me off the bench and nearly dragged me back to our dorm. "I can walk, Doug."

"Yeah, I know. But we'll get there faster if I drag you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does."

"To you, yes. But to the rest of us…."

"Hey, look. We're here."

He pushed me into the room, closing the door; and handed me a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"We're makin' a buy on Thursday."

"Good thing your graduation was back on Friday." I grinned. "Otherwise, it would've been ruined."

"Oh, yer funny."

I looked back at the paper. "So we have two post-grads and two faculty members. Who are we meeting with?"

"Gelen and Poletti." The two post-grads.

"Do you know who's runnin' this whole operation?"

He grinned. "We'll find out on Thursday. "Oh, and uh, good luck on yer finals."

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't ya love high school," he said, grinning like the Cheshire cat and hugging me from the side. He had to be hopped up on sugar or caffeine.

"I hated high school the first time and I _really hate it _now." He gave me a kiss on my forehead. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm just glad we're almost outta here."

"Not as much as I am."

Monday and Tuesday rolled by quickly and fairly smoothly for finals. I couldn't believe I was taking those stupid things. At least, the Dukes of Debauchery left me alone. But I still had two days before I was out of there and that was plenty of time for them to do something. I could flash my badge, but I had a horrible feeling that that would only make things worse.

On Wednesday, me and Doug spent the day together not doing much of anything. It turned out to be a decent day. As good as the day was going, a part of me still feared tomorrow. I had to get my stuff from the locker room. If some of that stuff hadn't actually have been mine, I would've left it. And there was no way I was going to ask Doug to get it for me; not that he would have had a problem with it if I had. But I preferred to let my pride win out.

"You look a little on edge, pal," Doug said as we sat on the baseball field bleachers. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, halfway in my own world.

He patted me on the shoulder. "Does this have anything to do with Harrison?"

"No." _Liar. _

"Hey…we'll be outta here tomorrow."

_Yeah…just enough time. Why can't you just tell him, you idiot. It's not that hard. Just tell him._

I became so lost in my thoughts I didn't realize Doug had been calling my name.

"Tommy…."

"Huh?"

"You okay? You spaced out there."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He grimaced at me.

I stared at him. "What?"

"I know there's something wrong, Tom. I really wish you'd talk to me."

Looking out over the field, I sighed. I desperately wanted to tell him. Every time I gathered up enough guts, I would say one thing in my head and something else entirely would come out of my mouth.

"There's nothing to talk about."

_And there it is._

"Come on," he said, defeat in his voice. "It's almost time for dinner."

That night as I lay in bed, I was completely gripped by terror. Something was going to happen. They would have their way with me tomorrow. It was only one day. But all it takes is one. Sleep didn't come easily for me that night. Doug's snoring wasn't helping. I lay on my side, staring at the wall. My mind wouldn't rest. All I could think of was them and what they might be planning to do to me. Not even the possibility of finally ending our case could help me sleep. I'd never felt so helpless.

I fell asleep some time after one o' clock. However long I was asleep, it wasn't long enough. Morning came all too soon. Doug was shaking me just before eight. Why couldn't the man just let me sleep in?

"Go away," I grumbled, trying to swat him away.

"Come on, Tommy-boy. We gotta get an early start. Up and at 'em."

I swatted at him again.

"Thomas…." He yanked the covers off of me. "It's time to get up. Do you always sleep in the fetal position?"

"No…" I whined. "Just let me sleep in. A couple more hours…." _I continued to whine._

So Doug graciously dumped me out of bed and onto the floor.

I looked up at him, scowling. He was grinning.

"I hate you."

"Come on, Tommy. We got work to do."

"Just kill me now," I grumbled under my breath. I was not looking forward to the day.

I pulled myself up off the floor and back onto my bed, lied down and closed my eyes.

Now Doug was getting irritated with me. "Tom, come on. We need to get moving. I don't wanna miss breakfast. I get very irritable when I miss breakfast."

"Breakfast isn't till nine," I mumbled into my pillow.

"Breakfast is at eight today. We're outta here at two. And we still have business to take care of. Besides that, don't you have something you need to do?"

"Yes."

"Get up and get dressed."

Doug doesn't get pissed at me unless I provoke him. And I was doing just that. I wasn't doing it on purpose; I honestly didn't want to get up. Facing the day was not on my 'to do' list.

"Thomas!"

"Alright! I'm getting up."

"Man, what is wrong with you today? I thought you'd be happy to be getting outta here today."

"I am. I just wanted to sleep in."

He shook his head at me. "Get dressed."

We exhibited typical McQuaid brothers' behavior as we headed to the dining hall. I'm pretty sure that most of those that saw us believed we both needed to be exorcised. As a matter-of-fact, if I remember correctly, we were actually told that.

Until I met Doug, I had never seen anyone eat so much in one sitting.

"Yer really gonna eat all that?" I said, staring at his tray.

"Gotta be well-prepared for the day."

"Uh-huh…."

"What the heck are you eatin'? There's nothin' there."

"Three chocolate chip pancakes, hashbrowns and some bacon is nothin'?"

"You really need to eat more, Tommy-boy."

I grimaced. "Sure I do." I took a bite of my pancakes. "You need to eat less."

"I only eat less when I'm sick."

There were far too many comments I could make, so I kept my mouth shut and ate my breakfast.

"What…no comment?" Doug said with a mouth full of food.

A wry grin crossed my lips. "Too many to choose from."

"Yeah, yeah." He threw a piece of biscuit at me. "You gonna do your thing before our meeting?"

"Yeah. The sooner the better." _Maybe I could be in and out of there before my fan club made their appearance_. _My luck, they were already waiting for me._

Doug snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Tommy. Wake up, bro."

"Uh…." I shook my head. "Sorry."

"You've been spacin' out a lot lately."

"Yeah, I know." I stood up. "I'd better go get my stuff." I took one last bite of my hashbrowns. "Where do you wanna meet?"

"I'll meet you at the ball field."

"See ya in a few."

_In a few, yes. But a few what?_

I was making my way to the gym, slowly, when I realized something that was critical to my well-being. Harrison _had_ to be there. He was in charge of locking up the locker room I used. And I was certain I was the last one that needed to get all of his crap out of his locker.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I walked in. Keeping my eyes in front, I made a beeline for my locker. Dropping my gym bag onto the bench, I quickly shoved everything that was in the locker into my bag. My heart was pounding. The slightest sound made me flinch. I took a deep breath, zipped up my bag; and flung it over my shoulder.

And then I turned around.

You know the old colloquialism about something making your heart stop? Or someone looking at you like a deer in headlights? I was a perfect example of both. I don't know how long they had been standing behind me. I had been so focused on getting out of there as fast as I could, I hadn't noticed them approach.

"What's yer hurry, son?"

That stupid lump was back in my throat. It was a lot harder to swallow this time. "I'm meeting my brother, Coach."

Harrison put his hand on my shoulder. A shiver ran down my spine. "I really should get going."

"I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind waiting a little while." I heard Coleman's voice from behind me. "This won't take long."

Trying to hide my fear from them was futile. But I tried to do so, anyway.

Nick was leaning against the lockers opposite me. A sickening smile was plastered on his face.

Much of what happened in the locker room that morning is a blur; even now. I'm sure I blacked-out at some point.

It was a repeat performance from Harrison and Nick. But I didn't expect what I got from Coleman. The other two held me down flat on my back on the bench. While I either wasn't sure what they were planning or simply didn't want to know, I became absolutely positive of Coleman's intentions when he removed his pants and boxers and Nick made sure I had an erection. When I began struggling violently, Nick sat on my legs. It didn't take much effort on Harrison's part to both hold me down at my chest and arms and cover my mouth to muffle my screams and sobs. When Coleman was done, Harrison decided he wanted one more shot at me.

While he had me pinned against the lockers he whispered into my ear, "Just because yer leavin' school, doesn't mean this is over."

And then they left.

I took my time getting out of the locker room. I had to regain my composure before I met with Doug. The physical pain I was in was dull and bearable; but emotionally, I was a train wreck. After pulling my pants up, I leaned against the lockers, tears streaming down my cheeks. A wave of nausea suddenly hit me and I made a beeline for the toilets, barely making it. (I'm sure the custodial staff would have loved to have made their way to the locker room only to find vomit all over the floor on the last day of school.) I desperately wanted to take a shower and burn the clothes I was wearing. After sitting beside the bowl for a few minutes, I slowly stood up and dragged my feet to a sink to wash my mouth out. I searched my pockets for some gum or breath mints I knew I had on me. I didn't need Doug smelling puke on my breath. When I finally had myself together, I grabbed my bag and headed to the ball field to meet Doug.

He was leaning against the bleachers. "What took ya so long?"

This is Doug's way of saying 'hello.'

"What can I say…. I'm popular. Ev'ryone wanted my autograph." _A few wanted more than that. _

"They wanna meet us at the tree line behind the dorms."

"My sarcasm was dying to make an appearance. "Because that wouldn't be conspicuous at all."

And then Doug hit me.

The buy was anti-climatic. When we made the call to Jenks I told him I didn't want anyone to know that me and Doug were cops. To my surprise, he didn't ask why. I contemplated telling him about Prowse. But the drugs he had were not illegal; nor did he _do_ anything illegal. What Prowse did do was no more a crime than offering me aspirin. So I let it go. Besides, I didn't want to let the cat out of the bag. Jenko and Ioki showed up to make the bust. Which was _less than_ anti-climatic. Me and Doug stood by and watched as if we had no idea what was going on. And we pulled it off rather well.

Then we went home. Via the McQuaid limo.

I sighed heavily as we finally pulled away from Goddard Hall. "Good riddance."

"Happy to be going home, Tommy-boy?"

"Couldn't be happier," I replied, though I'm sure I didn't look it.

I _was_ elated to get out of that hellhole and away from _them_. But Harrison's words still rang clear in my head.

"_Just because yer leavin' school, doesn't mean this is over."_

Chills ran up and down my spine. _What exactly did they know about me?_


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, I'm still writing this story. Sorry it took so long.

Enjoy. At Hanson's expense.

Chapter Four

My first night back in my own bed was a restless one. Harrison's words had a death grip on my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them. I could still feel them. Those first few nights I got little sleep. Doug came over the fourth night home and stayed. He was clearly concerned for me, but said nothing about it. It was the first time I got some decent shut-eye.

School was out for the summer, but there was still plenty for us to do—after our nice two week vacation. I took some of that time to visit Brian Ganz, a kid I had met on a case earlier in the school year. Unfortunately, he ended up being a much larger part of that case than I had hoped. He's one of the few kids from my many cases that I've kept in touch with.

It was also the case that I saw a side to Jenko I never wanted to see again. Jenks was always laid-back. He would get mad at you in a nice kind of way. _If that makes any sense. _And that happened to me quite a bit.

For the first time, Jenko was thoroughly pissed off at me. Sure there were times when he had been annoyed or upset with me (hence, the "getting mad at you in a nice kind of way"); but this time…this time was different. I had never seen him so angry. I had never seen him this angry at all before this moment. I wanted to crawl into the chair's cushion and disappear. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I apologized emphatically, promising I would never do it again.

What I did was stupid. I may have been safe at Brian's house, but Jenko didn't know that. Nobody did. Jenko had a right to be angry with me; but for some reason, it still hurt. My dad had gotten mad at me a number of times when I was a kid; even yelled occasionally. But I never felt like this when he did. Of course, I never pulled this stunt with him. My parents always knew where I was. _Not _telling them wasn't an option.

And I was beginning to feel that way with Jenko.

After giving him an update on the case he let me go. I had spent most of my time in there staring at my feet.

"You okay, man?" Doug asked as I walked out.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

I sat down at my desk, "Yes, I'm sure," and stared at it.

_It's brown. Dark brown,_ I thought to myself. Apparently, I had also thought it out loud.

"What is?" I heard Doug ask.

"The desk," I answered flatly.

Then I got up and walked to the restroom. I stood in the middle of the room, not looking at anything, trying to keep my tears from falling. I walked into one of the stalls, dropped the lid down on the toilet and sat down, pulling my feet up. What was wrong with me? Jenko hadn't hurt me. I did something I shouldn't have and was rightfully yelled at for it. So why did I feel so hurt?

Tears were now streaming down my cheeks. _What is wrong with you, Thomas? _I screamed in my head. _He didn't do anything wrong. You did. Stop crying. _

"Hanson?" Doug was calling for me, but I didn't hear him. "Hanson?"

"This is so stupid."

"What's stupid, Tom?"

He was now standing outside the stall I was in.

"So what if he got mad at me. I deserved it. It's nothing to cry about, right?"

He opened the stall door. I didn't look at his face, but I heard the worry in his voice when he said my name. "Tommy?"

Doug told me sometime later that when I finally looked up at him, he would've sworn I was only fourteen. I'm sure I looked it. And I definitely felt like I was.

I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Tom?"

My tears were falling harder. "I feel so stupid. Why does it hurt so much, Doug?"

"Because you love him. He's like a dad ta you."

"Yeah…."

"You gonna be okay?"

I nodded, planting my feet back onto the floor and wiping the tears from my eyes.

He gently rubbed my shoulder as I finally stood up. "And he loves you. Otherwise he wouldn't've gotten so upset with you. Now come on."

I sighed over the memory of that day as I stepped into the room where I'd be meeting with Brian. It had been almost eight months and Brian would be out soon. He may be a little late getting to college, but he would get there. I had kept tabs on Tober and Jimmy as well. Through all the cases I've been on with all the kids I've met, those three are the ones I've become closet to. Tober didn't believe me when I told him and Jimmy that I was an undercover cop. Even when I flashed my badge he still insisted on "speaking with this Jenko-boss guy." Douglas didn't help in the matter any, telling them I really was a high school student recruited by Jenko and then attached some wild story about how and why I ended up being recruited. Apparently, this was some kind of payback for making him out to be a geek for that case.

Brian was sitting at the table at the far end of the room, waiting for me. I smiled as he stood up and gave him a hug.

"How ya doin'?" I asked.

"Hangin' in there. You?"

"I'm okay."

I knew my tone and expression gave me away. He knew something wasn't quite right with me.

"So what's goin' on?" he asked as we sat down. "You don't seem like yerself."

"Just got done with a far-too-long case. Me and Doug were stuck at a boarding school."

"What happened?"

I sighed heavily and started to explain the case. He was amused at mine and Doug's McQuaid brothers persona and how I was on the lacrosse team. (I didn't see what was so amusing about that.) I had no problem telling him about my little fan club; at least about their creepy demeanor. Or the actual case itself. But when I got to my personal part of the story, I stopped. I couldn't go any further.

Brian waited for a moment for me to continue before speaking himself. "What happened, Tom?"

I had my arms folded on the table, staring at them. The air around me felt heavy. He waited patiently as I sighed heavily, running my left hand through my hair and looking around the room. Other than the two of us, the room was empty.

"Those, uh…those three guys that were watchin' me…."

"Yeah…."

I took a deep breath, hesitated, then looked him in the eyes. "I was raped. By all three of them."

"Oh, man, Tom…."

"Multiple times."

I had my head down, so I didn't see the expression on his face.

"Does Doug know?"

"No." I looked up at him. "Yer the first person I've told." I turned away from him and stared at my feet. My shoes had never been so interesting to me as they were at that moment.

A tear hit my shoe. _Great. This is just what I need…to start crying now._

I felt Brian's hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

I looked up at him, wiping the tears from my eyes. "Yeah…. I'm fine."

"It's not my position to tell you what you should or shouldn't do. But you really need ta tell Doug."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked back down at the floor. "I don't know if I can."

Brian changed the subject after that. For which I was grateful. We spent the rest of the visit laughing about that case that started our friendship; our future plans; and whatever else we could think of. As brief as it was, it was still a sweet release for me; something that I desperately needed.

As I headed back home, I couldn't get Brian's voice out of my head telling me that I needed to tell Doug what had happened. But like every other time I wanted to tell him, I lost my nerve; and all those absurd, ridiculous thoughts bombarded my mind. I decided to stop by Doug's place. _Maybe I'd get my nerve back._

There are few things that blow my mind. Doug's apartment is one of them.

"Where do you sleep?" I asked, munching on a cookie one of his neighbors had made for him. (She made a whole batch, not just the one cookie.)

"In the loft or on the couch."

"Where's yer bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right."

I was about to ask a dumb question; more like make a dumb statement. "You have a hallway?" I had been there before. You'd think I would've noticed.

"Yes, Hanson. I have a hallway."

Walking out of the bathroom I noticed another door, closed. "Hey, what's this door go to?"

Doug was standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me. "It's my bedroom."

I furrowed my brow. "You have a bedroom?"

"Yes, Thomas. I have a bedroom."

"So…why don't you use it?"

We walked back to the kitchen.

"I do. Just not fer sleeping."

"You're strange, Douglas."

"But you love me, anyway."

I rolled my eyes as we walked into the living room, plates of food in hand, and sat down on the couch.

"So how'd yer visit go with Brian?"

"Good. He's doin' good."

"How much more time before he's outta there?"

"Few months I guess. Not really sure."

I knew he wanted to ask me about what happened on the case. Brian was right. I needed to tell Doug. It was just a matter of actually going through with it. Which of course, didn't happen.

I would soon regret not telling him right then and there. My summer of hell was about to begin.

After eating pizza and playing on the Nintendo for nearly three hours I headed home. Ever since that last day of the case I'd been constantly looking over my shoulder. Whenever I was alone, every sound, no matter how small or even familiar, put me on edge. I had no idea where the three of them were or if their sick desires still included me.

Harrison's words echoed through my mind as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. _'Just because yer leavin' school…doesn't mean this is over.'_ I suddenly lost my desire to go into my apartment.

"Suck it up, Hanson. There's no one there."

My pep talks to myself rarely work. This one was not among the rare.

I sighed heavily and got out of the car. The building looked ominous. "Get it together, Thomas."

Heading inside, I felt chills run up and down my spine. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. The stairwell felt foreboding. It was absurd, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud, just walk up the stairs, ya sissy."

I walked hurriedly to my apartment, stopping abruptly in front of the door. I reached for the handle to check it. Locked. Sighing with relief, I unlocked the door and went in.

It was quiet, dimly lit by the lamp on the end table by the couch. I closed the door behind me and dead bolted it. Fear was starting to take over as I slowly walked through my apartment, jumping at the slightest sound. I almost drew my weapon. "You're just being paranoid," I told myself.

I felt ridiculous.

In my old apartment, my first apartment, the bathroom was by the front door. That never made any sense to me. I moved out after the fire. My apartment was relatively untouched by the flames, but there was extensive smoke damage. I found a place for the same rent and a bathroom in a less annoying—and less weird—place. However, my front door didn't have a peephole.

I was tired…but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to sleep. My fears were likely unfounded. Likely, but not certain.

After changing my clothes I collapsed onto my bed. As I started to drift off, I heard what sounded like knocking at my front door. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand as I got up. Eleven-thirty. It could easily be "Mother Hem" Doug checking up on me, even though I had just left his place. My eyelids were drooping as I walked to the door. Reaching for the knob a sudden chill ran down my spine. I slowly unlocked the dead bolt. My hands were trembling and my heart was pounding. Swallowing the lump in my throat I opened the door. (Why I didn't ask who it was before I unlocked the dead bolt, I still can't figure out.)

Standing just behind the threshold was my worst nightmare. The one thing I had been fearing most since the last day of that case was at my door.

How did they know where I lived?

"Hey, Tommy-boy." _Nick the Nurse._

"What do you want?" I said, trying to hold my composure.

"We just came for a little visit. Mind if we come in?" he said, pushing his way past and followed by Harrison and Coleman, who each patted me on the head.

I stood there by the open door, staring at them.

Nick walked back over to me and closed the door, turning the dead bolt. "Now Tommy, you shouldn't leave yer door open. You never who just might walk in unannounced." His lighthearted tone was disgusting.

"What're you doin' here? How'd you find my apartment?" I growled.

"Easy there, Tiger."

Harrison and Coleman still hadn't said a word. Coleman was leaning against the back of the couch and Harrison was leaning against the dining table.

Nick put his arm around my shoulders. I jerked away, but he wasn't fazed. "You know what you need, Tommy-boy…." He put his arms around my shoulders again, squeezing tighter so I couldn't jerk away. "A nice warm shower. It would be very gracious of you ta be nice and squeaky clean fer us."

I struggled to get away from him. That's when Harrison finally spoke. "Now, now, Officer Hanson," he said as he approached. _How did he know? _"Let's not make a spectacle."

"Get out of my apartment."

Nick squeezed me even tighter. "Oh, come now, Tommy. We haven't seen each other for awhile." He glanced over at Coleman. "I think it's time for that shower."

He dragged me down to the bathroom and shoved me in. "Let's get that water runnin'."

I had no way of getting out and it would've been stupid to try anything. I was trapped.

With the shower now going, Nick turned back to me. "Oh, come now, Officer Hanson, you know you can't take a proper shower when yer still fully clothed." I stood uncomfortably still, staring at him. I had turned back into the frightened teenager from that case. "Either you take yer clothes off and get in that shower or I'm gonna do it for you."

There was no doubt in my mind that he would.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and slowly removed my clothes.

"Get in. Wash up."

I did. Scared to death.

When he decided I was finished, he told me to get out and dry off but to leave my "dirty clothes" on the floor.

So I did.

"You should comb yer hair," Harrison said.

Coleman countered, "Nah. I like it messy. Makes him look like a kid."

I felt like one.

They were mocking me. And clearly enjoying it.

Nick smiled at me, messing my still wet hair. "Ain't he adorable." He spun me around and pushed me up against the wall. "How 'bout we get started."

"How 'bout we skip all this and you guys leave."

"Well, now," Harrison mocked, "he actually has a voice this time."

Nick's mouth was almost touching my ear. "Now where's the fun in that?"

He started to unzip his pants and I started to fight back.

"Not a good idea, son" Harrison said.

Nick slammed me into the wall. I hit my head…hard. Everything went fuzzy. The next thing I was aware of was waking up in my bed, startled.

_Was it all a dream?_

I jumped out of the bed and ran to the front door. The dead bolt was locked. I sighed heavily and turned to walk back to my room. As soon as I took a step with my right foot a sharp pain shot up my right side from my foot to my waist. The pain dropped me to the floor. I gritted my teeth, trying not to scream. When the searing pain passed, I looked down at my leg. On the side of my right leg, from my knee up under my boxers, was a massive, deep purple bruise. I lifted the waistband of my boxers; the bruise was almost to my waistline. It was painful to the touch and I was afraid to move. I didn't want that searing pain to come back. But I couldn't lay there forever. Even though I didn't have to work that day I still had to get up and get moving. Doug was bound to call—or just show up—at some point during the day.

I reached for the doorknob and pulled myself up, trying not to put too much weight on my bruised leg. I had to get to the bathroom and get a better look at it. Getting to my feet I took a deep breath and then took a step with my left foot. Taking in another deep breath, I took that second step. It wasn't as painful as the one that put me on the floor, but it still hurt like hell. As I limped to the bathroom, tears started to fall. The pain steadily got worse as I limped down the hallway. I had to stop a couple of times and take a breather till some of the pain subsided. By the time I made it to the bathroom the pain in my leg was worse. I stood bent over the sink, ready to collapse. Looking up into the mirror, I didn't notice anything unusual at first. My hair was a mess like it always was every morning. Then I noticed a large, black and blue bump on my left temple. I touched it an immediately flinched.

What the hell happened? Did I have some kind of night terror? Had they really been here?

"And why can't I remember?"

I didn't realize I was putting so much weight on my right leg until that searing pain returned and nearly put me on the floor again. I gritted my teeth again to keep myself from screaming. The tears were falling harder now.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my comb, wetted it and combed out my hair. I still don't know why I felt that that was so important. I had to get a good look at my leg now. No matter how scared I was to look at it. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't what I expected.

I pulled my boxers down to get a good look at my thigh. In the center of the bruise my skin was broken. It looked as if it had exploded out. No wonder it was so painful. The only good thing was that it wasn't bleeding. At least not anymore. I pulled my boxers back up. I needed to go to the hospital, but there was no way I could drive myself with my leg the way it was.

I made my way out of the bathroom and back to my bedroom. The air was practically sucked out of my lungs when I saw the blood on my sheets. It wasn't a massive amount, but still enough to scare me. Then I saw a pair of my boxers on the floor by my dresser. One of the legs was saturated with blood.

My mind was reeling.

I picked up the phone on my nightstand to call Doug. Before I could dial I heard someone knock on the door. I prayed that it was Doug. I set the phone back down and slowly limped to the door. Halfway there, I heard Doug's voice calling my name. I sighed with relief as I continued to limp to the door.

"I'm coming."

I opened the door, cringing as I took a few steps back to let Doug in.

"Hey, pal," Doug started as he walked in. "I was wondering if you—" He paused, obviously noticing something. "What happened to you?" He closed the door and then touched the bruised bump on my temple."Ow." I pulled my head back.

Then he looked down. "What the hell happened to yer leg?"

"I don't know." I replied sincerely, limping and grimacing in pain.

"I wanna take a look at that bruise."

I didn't protest. "Okay." I was in too much pain.

"Come on."

He helped me down to the bathroom where he checked out the bruise. I felt a little uncomfortable dropping my shorts in front of him.

"Relax, Hanson. I have the same plumbing." He knelt down to take a look at it. My bruise, not my plumbing. "Besides, I've already seen you naked."

"Don't remind me. " I yelped. "Don't push on it so hard."

"I didn't. Pull yer shorts up and get dressed. I'm gonna take you to the hospital."

Though it was just across the hall, he helped me to my room. I didn't want him to see the blood, but I didn't have a choice. He didn't say anything when he saw my blood-stained sheets.

"What happened, Tom?" he asked as I slipped on a t-shirt and my pajama pants.

"I don't know," I replied, searching for my slippers. I didn't feel like trying to put on my jeans or my sneakers. My leg hurt too much. "I can't remember anything." Of course, I remembered something. But I wasn't sure if was real or just a dream.

"You ready?"

"Yeah…. I'm ready."

Again, Doug helped me limp along; this time out of my apartment and to my car. I'm sure he was pleased he would be driving.

"You all the way in? I don't wanna smash yer leg when I close the door."

"Yeah…. I'm all the way in. You can close the door."

Once we were on our way Doug asked, "How bad's yer leg hurtin' ya?"

"It feels like someone's tryin' to rip my leg apart." He cringed. "What about yer head?"

"Only when I touch the bump."

"And you can't remember anything that happened."

"No." My voice grew softer. "It was just a dream."

He glanced at me. "What dream?"

I was staring out the window. "More like a nightmare."

"Well, what happened in yer nightmare?"

"I'm not sure where it started. But when I got home from yer place I was so tired I just changed my clothes and went to bed. I guess I fell asleep right away." I looked over at him. He gave me the nod to continue. "I guess in my dream, I was starting to nod off when I heard knocking at my front door. So I got up to answer it. I was so tired I didn't bother to ask who it was, so I just opened the door."

"Who was it?"

"These three guys."

"Did you recognize them?"

"No," I lied.

"What happened?"

"They pushed their way into my apartment and assaulted me. Well, tried to."

"Tried to?"

"I woke up. Then I ran to the front door to check and see if it was locked. It was. And then when I turned to walk back to my bedroom…."

"You found out yer leg was messed up," Doug finished.

"Yeah…."

"What about yer head?"

I shrugged.

"You sure it was just a dream?"

"No, I'm not sure."

When we arrived at the emergency room Doug insisted that I just "show them" my leg rather than tell them first. I saw a doctor immediately.

My wound ended up needing stitches. I almost screamed when the doctor cleaned it out and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I tried not to completely lose it and jump off the table while the doctor checked out my leg. I was terrified laying there with my pants down and I knew Doug could tell how upset I was. I had insisted that he be in there with me.

"It's alright, Tommy. I'm right here."

"I know."

As soon as the doctor was done I had my pants up as far as I could get them while still lying down. Doug helped me off the table so I could pull them up the rest of the way. I was a much happier boy then. The doctor gave me some medicated cream to put on the bruise on my leg, as well as my head, and some gauze to keep on my wound until it healed. My head injury was minor.

And then I was outta there as fast as I could limp outta there.

The doctor had told me that a night terror wasn't farfetched. He had seen many injuries that were caused by such nightmares. So I left it at that. A night terror. I asked him why I couldn't remember what had happened. He told me simply that because it happened during my night terror, I was unaware of reality. It was similar to sleepwalking. A sleepwalker doesn't remember what he did or how he got somewhere while he was sleeping. However, there were cases in which the person experiencing the night terror did remember what was occurring in the dream. I for one didn't want to remember.

_And I prayed that it would never happen again._

By the time my vacation was over, the wound on my leg had healed and the bruise was fading. My leg was still a little sore, but I could put weight on it without any problem. The bruise and bump on my head were gone and I had no lasting effects from it.

I never have figured out what caused the small gash in my leg. Doug and I searched everywhere in my apartment, but continually came up empty.

With my leg on the mend, I was eager to get back to work. What I was _not_ eager for was my upcoming summer from Hell.

**JSJSJS**

I'll try not to take so long next time.


End file.
